


Second Sight, Second Chance

by acidtiger



Series: Second Sight, Second Chance [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtiger/pseuds/acidtiger
Summary: This is my first fanfic so feedback is very much desired. I wrote this series after a marathon of the audio books and movies over December/Xmas break.I'm also new to the site, so if I've messed up on the tags, etc,  please let me know.The Wooing of Severus Snape.* Set a few years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Snape survived the attack in the Shrieking Shack and is back teaching.* Pippa Courtland is a Ravenclaw student who is returning to classes after falling ill in her final year. She's excited, yet nervous about returning, mainly due to a strange recurring dream about one of her teachers.Note: Severus doesn't show up till Chapter 5 (short chapters!). I wanted to flesh out Pippa first, so she had more back history and wasn't so 2 dimensional.A big shout out to my friends A.L. & W.P. for their proofreading help.





	1. I

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

            "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty." The voice was accompanied by a light rapping at the bedroom door before it opened. 

            "I'm awake. C'mon in." Pippa called out from beside the unpacked trunk. She was seated on her bed, surrounded by piles of things that needed packing.

            "Thank Merlin for that." The fair-haired wizard replied. "Dad's home, and he brought you your favorite."  A myriad of comforting smells followed along in the air after him. A brown paper, grease stained bag was dropped unceremoniously on the dresser. "I don't know how you eat that foul Muggle crap though..."

            "I haven't had it in forever." she protested weakly, though for some reason, the aroma of burger and fries did nothing to improve her mood.

            "Maybe you should just give it up all together. I mean, you...you're doing so well without it." What her brother was trying tactfully to say, was she had shed some weight and her skin never looked better.  "Maybe with this new look of yours you might not end up a spinster like batty old Matilda." he teased.

            "Spinsterhood is not part of my career plan, trust me Eddy, that much I'm sure of." It was about the only thing she was sure of. The list of career possibilities that did appeal to her was rather short.

            He walked into the room, making sure to touch every item on her desk at least once. He knew Pippa hated it. "Mum’s been to Diagon Alley to get what you needed and some owls came from school for you when the healer was here."

            The last of the healers parading through the house, she hoped. She had been given a clean bill of health, the sleeping and all associated symptoms were gone.  "She picked out new robes without me? Buh. I'm going to need all new clothes too; I hope she doesn't do that without me too." The outfit she was currently wearing hung on her like a costume. If she had been sick any longer she might have wasted away to nothing, mentally as well as physically.

            "You said dad was home too? Did he bring anything good back?" She asked before making her way over to her desk to put everything back where it belonged.

            "Enh, just some weird old Muggle stuff. Nothing cool or magical."

            Her father, a lecturer and writer in the field of classic literature spent the summers touring, either giving talks or poking around old Muggle castles and the like. This was the first summer the family hadn't joined him. With Pippa’s mystery illness and Eddy's new 'job', they just hadn't been able to all get away.

            She made a shooing motion with her hands to sweep him out of her room, following closely after him so as not to give him a chance to upset anymore of her belongings. Pausing at the long mirror beside the bedroom door, she couldn’t help but stare a moment. She had changed, physically, at least. Her body was much slimmer and her hair so much longer. Mother hadn't seen the point to fuss with it while she was sick and now it was half way down her back. There were a few more permanent reminders of her illness as well, a scar or two around her hair line. Better than pimples though, she thought to herself. She twisted from side to side, admiring how the long black curly locks swished back and forth.  It reminded her of the pictures of Granny Courtland. She had always been told she looked like a younger version of her, more so now with the long hair. 

            Granny had loved her books too, just like Pippa. Unlike Pippa though, she had been a Hufflepuff. Most of her dad's side were Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, apart from batty old Matilda. She was the only Slytherin in the family on both sides as far as they could tell. Her brother, Edward, like their mother, was a Gryffindor. Most of her side of the family was.

            She might have looked like her Gran when she was young and pretty, but Pippa still felt a little bit like a dowdy old potato.

            Eddy was shooed from the room, but not before peeking in the mirror with her. "None of your friends are going to recognize you. That is, if you had any." he moved fast to dodge the smack he knew was surely to follow.

            "Gryffindor prat." she called after him as he made his escape.

            "Ravenclaw nerd." she said, reaching out to smack him, chasing after him out of the room.


	2. II

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

            Her bed was a controlled explosion site of clothes, books and school supplies. It should have all been packed by now, term started tomorrow.  With a heavy sigh, Pippa started slow, begrudgingly, wanding items into her school trunk. Being that she was ill over Christmas and sent home early, she missed out on having to pack up her things twice that term. It was the smallest of silver linings for her.

            Her family had been spending the Christmas holiday at her mother’s parents, as was tradition.  The entire extended family had made it this year.   Right before pudding, on Christmas Eve, she vomited all over her cousin Thomas’ brand new shoes and passed out. When the pox started popping up all over her face they rushed her to St. Mungo’s. The rest of her Christmas break was spent there, being prodded and poked at by healers.  Small blessing being she was asleep for it all

            The healers were baffled, as she seemed otherwise fine.  They allowed her to return home in the New Year, but returning to Hogwarts just wasn’t in the stars.  She had spent the better part of January to August sleeping.  Which in a way, was likely for the best, as the pox on her skin were a truly unsightly shade of purple and blue. Enough to give anyone the willies.

            Unfortunately, she had missed her N.E.W.T.S. When she had woken up for a few days in July and they told her, she was devastated. Those long ebony locks and a smaller backside were far from consolation in her mind.  The news had made her go back to sleep of her own accord.

            Then one day, like nothing had happened, she woke up and stayed awake for a full day, then another, and another. At her mother’s suggestion, they had written to her teachers to ask for extra help sessions for her when she could return to school. Letters from Professors McGonagall and Flitwick sat on a pile of books that needed to be packed. There had been no word from Professor Snape.

            “Pip-pop.” It was her father at the door, looking in on her, “All packed?”

            “Ugh, I don’t know which I loathe more, dad, packing or that horrible old nickname.”

            “I know dear, necessary evil though. It won’t do any good to put it off, it’s going to have to be done. Sooner the better. Just like a Band-Aid.” He thought for a moment, “No, I suppose it’s the opposite of a Band-Aid.” His mind threatened to drift off and away as he mulled over the pointless thought. 

            Her father was a middle-aged man of completely average proportions. His heart and mind though, were of completely above average size.  Especially where his loved ones were concerned. He was, for lack of a better word, eccentric.

            “Just do like I told you last year, pretend your packing for the both of us. I rather fancied I’d have been put in Ravenclaw, were things different.” He said without even a trace of remorse.

            Her father was, to some of the wizarding world, a disgrace: a squib. Somehow though, at least as a grown man, it never seemed to bother him.  His parents – father also a squib – were good and kind people and had raised him to accept no limits. Which he had made good on. Several PhDs under his belt, world renowned in his field and several published works, he was a success in the Muggle world. To look at him, you’d never have guessed he didn’t have a magical bone in his body. He was about as wizardly garbed as any one you’d meet in Hogsmeade.  Given the eccentricity of the circles he traveled in, it was understandable. Stuffy and quirky old intellectuals. Pip had met some of those folk, and they were odd.

            “Oh, your brother wanted you to have this.” He held out a galleon for her, “He said, and I quote ‘Any of those gits give you a hard time about anything, just show them this and tell them to pound sand.’”  It was no ordinary galleon of course, but an enchanted Dumbledore’s Army coin.  Neither of them had fought in the actual Battle of Hogwarts, but Eddy had been part of the army and did his part right up until mother pulled them both from school. It had been Granny Courtland’s insistence. She had been terribly worried for their safety, given their father not being able to cast a spell to save his life.

            As much as her brother was a huge pain in her behind, she loved him dearly. She wasn’t the least bit surprised by his gesture, it was completely in character for him.  That was just who he was, sweet and kind but an enormous headache for all around him.  Though he would never admit it on his own, he adored his little sister completely. Overprotective almost to the point of compulsion, he had always looked out for her at school. He wasn’t the brightest of the family, but he had the heart of a lion. It was no shock he had been sorted into Gryffindor.

            The latest family tragedy was him taking up a muggle job for the summer, bartending at some London club. It was, in his words, to meet chicks.  Dad was okay with it, but mother was silently mortified. In her mind, he may as well run off to join the Muggle circus. 

            The fact he was such a loveable screw-up only put more pressure on her though, to be the same sort of overachiever her parents were.  Mother was a ministry witch, working on spell and charm research and preservation. The best in her department.  It wasn’t that Pippa wasn’t smart enough to follow in either of her parents’ footsteps, she just had no idea in what direction to point her efforts in. She had even done her C.A.T.s (Career Aptitude Test) and M.I.C.E (Magical Interest Categorization Exam) with neither coming up with anything that interested her in any great deal.  The entire thing had put a lot of pressure on her, in fact, more than a few of the healers had thought her condition might have been anxiety related.

            She wondered if she should try that Muggle Yoga thing her brother had told her all about. Though it sounded to her, from her brother’s perspective at least, it was just an excuse for women to wear tight stretchy pants.

            Even without the weight of N.E.W.T.s and planning the rest of her life wasn’t baring down on her shoulders, there was the other ‘thing’. The absolutely-out-there, entirely impossible, utterly ridiculous dream that had occupied her mind while she slept away all those days, weeks, months.  It seemed so real, so indisputable. She couldn’t shake the feeling it gave her, it clung to her, somewhere between a warm embrace and a suffocating hug.  It scared her, but not in the way a nightmare would. No, it was apprehension, not panic.

            With her dad standing there, looking so damned helpful and supportive, she thought about confiding in him about it and all it entailed. It wouldn’t have been as uncomfortable to tell him as it would have been with mother. He didn’t know all the details of Hogwarts. Thinking it better, to not worry him, she pushed aside the idea. She turned instead, back to the only slightly less unappealing task of packing for school.


	3. III

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

            “Eat up.” Her mother ordered, snapping Pippa out of her sleepy morning fog. She looked like she might fall back asleep at any moment, face down into her oatmeal.

            “Can we just go? I’ll get something on the train.” She protested weakly.

            “I think no, I want you heading off with a decent meal in you and not arriving at school in a chocolate frog induced sugar coma.” She scolded.

            “Let her be, Louise. She’s just got a case of the nerves. No need to pile all that porridge on top of the butterflies.” Her dad chimed in.

            “No morning owls?” Her bother asked, sympathetically trying to move the conversation away from his sister.  It was to no avail though. He seemed particularly jumpy this morning, like a little child with ants in his pants.

            “No and I have half a mind to send one straight away to the headmistress. Professor Snape didn’t respond to my inquiry about extra lessons for Pippa.”

            Eddy rolled his eyes, though Pippa paled slightly.

            “You should be thankful for that, Mum. Extra work is one thing, but extra time with Master Creepy is another thing.” Eddy did his best Snape impression: ‘One hundred points from Gryffindor for being way cooler than my stinky house.’ He drawled, over exaggerating the pauses between each word.

            Nobody at the table look amused by it.

            “Perhaps you would have done better to have worked on your lessons than your comedy. I seem to recall you only getting an Acceptable in his class.” Her mother chided.

            Pippa turned her attention back to her breakfast, moving her oatmeal around in the bowl distractedly, but eating none of it. “He’s not that bad.” She murmured.

            “Not that bad!?” her brother exclaimed and mock shuddered. “Not that bad like the same way spattergroit isn’t that bad, maybe.” He shuddered again, for real this time.

            “I mean, he’s exceptionally smart.” She protested without trying to sound too invested in the conversation.

            “Exceptionally smart, but the same goes for creepy, gross, mean…” he counted the list off on his fingers.

            “Quit it, Edward. You want your sister to do well, right? Well, she needs to pass her N.E.W.T.s and she’s already behind the rest of her peers.”

            “At least you only have him for potions, not Defense.” Eddy ignored his mother’s insistence.

            “I would rather that.” Pippa argued. “Again, brilliant, and far more useful than potions.” The conversation was starting to get her back up; she didn’t realize she had just stepped on a landmine of her brother’s making.

            “Ooooooh…” her brother teased. “Does my ickle sister have a widdle crushy wushy on her teacher?”

            All the color drained from her face and she retaliated by catapulting a heaping spoonful of porridge at her brother’s face.

            “Shouldn’t you be getting off to your very important Muggle job, Ed-Ward?” She fought back, voice raising slightly in volume. “Don’t you have a bunch of girls to faun over while they get sauced?

“At this hour? Heck no. They’re party people, not raging alcoholics. I’m only up to see you off, my dearest ickle sister.” He got up from the table to go get ready to leave.

“Enough, children.” Her mother said calmly. “Pippa-dear, you’ll just have to talk to Professor Snape yourself about the extra lessons. I have faith you will be able to convince him.”

            From the hallway Eddy was making kissing and retching noises all the while.


	4. IV

  **DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

           Stepping through the grand front entrance of Hogwarts, she couldn’t help but feel all her anxiety melt away. It had been almost a year. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed the place. The energy in the air, the buzz of students scurrying this way and that. Even the drafty hallways and creepy gargoyles were a familiar comfort.

           The train ride had been, interesting, though mostly awkward and uncomfortable as none of the other students recognized her at first. Thankfully general interest in her faded before dinner.  One had to have a cursed scar to stir up more prolonged fame.

All her friends, though it would have been more accurate to refer to them as classmates, had graduated and moved on. Some young witches and wizards might have been upset to have to return to school at an age past the normal graduation. Some might have felt left out, or left behind, but Pippa was content to be back. And while she had no reason to dislike home, being at Hogwarts always made her happy.  It was a place of knowledge and learning, and she was only truly happy if she was advancing herself.  The only trepidation she carried with her was unrelated to lessons.

            Her new schedule was quite taxing. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had made good on their promise to her mother, and she had extra help sessions most every evening. No word had come from Snape; she would have to steel herself to the idea of speaking to him in person about it.

            The hair on the back of her neck stood up whenever she thought of her Potions teacher. He had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, and even been headmaster for a time, but he was back to his original position.  Her trepidation over Potions class was not born out of any fear of Professor Snape – no more than any sane non-Slytherin. Snape had been cleared of his part in the Second Wizarding War, mostly due to the insistence of Potter.  He hadn't returned to teaching immediately, having spent a significant time convalescing from the near fatal attack at the Shrieking Shack. No, her anticipation had absolutely nothing to do with her potions grade and everything to do will her illness induced recurring dream. She couldn’t help but wonder how she would feel upon seeing him again in person.


	5. V

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

           Another year, another welcoming feast, another sorting ceremony and Snape wasn’t looking forward to it. The truth of it was that he wasn’t looking forward to any part of the year at all. If he had been alone before, he was certainly forsaken now.  Why was he still here?  He had no great love for his peers. Respect, but they weren't friends. Nor the faceless mass of revolving students. Teaching had never been his passion either.  He had set aside his fascination of the Dark Arts as well; it was an obsession that had brought him nothing but pain in the end.  Minerva had offered him the teaching position, but he declined, opting to return to the simpler, safer task of potions once again.

            Idly, he rearranged the items upon his desk for the umpteenth time.  His mood was as dark as the cold, dank office.   He pulled his dark cloak around himself closer, taking a tiny bit of comfort in hiding its depths.  Turning back to his dark thoughts the only answer he could come up with was familiarity.  Like Riddle and Potter, Hogwarts was the only true home he had known. Even though it had not always been the friendliest of places, it had been the one place he had shared with her.

      He would get no more time to dwell on it now as a timid knock on the dungeon door dragged him unwillingly back to the real world. 

            “Enter.” His reply was almost inaudible.

            “Professor…” came an almost equally soft voice ahead of the dark-haired witch slowly pushing open the heavy dungeon door with a creak.

            “Yes?” he hadn’t looked up from his desk. “Just because classes have not started yet does not give you license to waste my time.” He added, not giving her a chance to answer. Such was his way. It had become automatic, reflexive.  Dark eyes finally turned upward to rest on the witch before him. For a long moment, he didn’t recognize her. It was one thing to not care about his students, but another to not remember them. The few moments he spent trying to recall who she was afforded her the time to gather her thoughts and courage.

            "Professor, I... that is to say, my parents wrote to you...about extra classes for me this year, so I could get caught up for my N.E.W.T.s."

            He remembered her now. The Ravenclaw girl that had been ill last year. He hadn’t recognized her. Normally he would have dismissed the request out of hand. That is why he had not responded to her parents’ letter.

            "I have been busy." A lie. "And will continue to be so." Another lie.

She nodded, allowing a slightly defeated sounding sigh to pass her lips.

            "But, I will find time to provide you with extra lessons if I determine you require it." 

            He could sympathize with losing - nay, wasting - a chunk of one’s life uselessly in a bed convalescing. He couldn't recall her ever being an issue in his class, like most Ravenclaw she had been attentive and studious.  Furthermore, he recalled her being a somewhat solitary creature as well and with that too he could relate.

            "Thank you, Professor." she intoned with the barest of smiles, not wanting to appear too happy about the situation, lest it be misconstrued as smug.

            "Very well, dismissed." his eyes were already turned back to the collection of meaningless things on his desk.


	6. VI

  **DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

            The early morning potions class was almost over. The room was filled with a faint haze of vapors from their completed concoctions. It gave the room a misty and almost ethereal quality.  Most of the students were done, cleaning up their ingredients and tools as they waited to be graded. The dungeon classroom was quiet for the most part, only the scratching of a quill coming from Snape’s desk at the head of the room. He glanced up, hawklike eyes surveyed the room.  He could see many were ready to have their work graded and were anxious to leave. It had been like this always, no one wanted to linger in his presence longer than required. 

            His gaze came to rest on the dark haired Ravenclaw girl he had met with the night before prior to dinner.  She was staring off into space, her attention clearly not on her cauldron.  If she had been any other student, he would have singled her out immediately. Mocked her, embarrassed her.  He was, however, inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt just once. Perhaps she was lost or confused.  Today's assignment shouldn't have been overly difficult, but it did require some finesse, some skill that may have been lacking due to her time missed.

            Despite his reputation of being a tyrant or a monster in the classroom, it was at times a facade. A tool to keep them in line. This girl had not yet earned his ire and therefore did not deserve public humiliation.  She had returned to learn, even asked for extra help.  Were she to waste his time, to accept help and then throw it into his face...then he would write her off.

            Looking across the dungeon at her, he reached out to her mind with his. He had expected to see frantic images of her running through the potion instructions. Nothing in heaven or earth could have prepared him for what he did find.  No, never would he have thought to find this. The image swirling around in the young witch’s mind was not of potion ingredients or cauldrons...not even inane foolishness like Quidditch.

            No, the image that had pulled her attention away from work was of him.  More shockingly it wasn't murderous. Her reverie contained them both and together lazing idly in an old porcelain claw-foot bathtub.  The water was still, as neither of them were moving, covering their bodies completely. She was resting against him, head turned so she laid with her cheek against his collar bone. Neither was talking, yet both seemed contented. The image was serene and intimate, beautiful even.   

            Intruding on her mind, he had witnessed something that was not for his eyes. This was not real, it wasn't him, nor was it for him. If it was not for his complete and utter shock he might have felt shame at intruding.  He took a few steps closer to the tub, mouth agape.  The image shifted slightly as the girl before him opened an eye to look up at her partner. Startled and feeling like he had been caught, like she was looking up at the real him, he severed the connection. The abruptness of with which he did caused him to jump back slightly, his chair dragging across the floor making a horrible clawing noise.

            "Class dismissed." he managed in a bare rasp of a voice that was tinged with unease.

            Confused murmurs came from his students, but as they did not wish to invoke his wrath, they did as they were told and packed up to leave.

            Did he dare look at her? Would he find a mocking expression on her face, a blush or just a look of confusion like her classmates? Why would she be thinking such a thing in the first place? While some did know, from rumors, that he was a formidable Legilimens, what would be the point of such a chain of thoughts? She had no reason to torment or unsettle him in such a way. If this were the case, then it followed that what he had seen had been for her own benefit, not his.

            No, he must have been mistaken. Yet he knew very well he wasn't. He looked up, stealing a glance at her behind his long hair, hoping it would conceal his gaze if needed.

            The look of confusion on her face mirrored that of her classmates. Not a grin, no malice, not even a blush. She had no idea he had been in her mind. This bewildered him even further.


	7. VII

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

  

          Several weeks had passed since the vision incident in the classroom and Snape was both relieved and grateful that is seemed to be over and done with. Halloween was approaching and despite what many less than inventive students might think, it was not his favorite holiday. It was in fact, a day he dreaded more than any other. Once maybe, as a child he might have enjoyed it, but as an adult it was a yearly reminder of the blood stain on his soul.

            He had opted to skip the feast, skive off another non-compulsory appearance. It wasn't that he had anything pressing to attend to, nor did he intend to do anything productive with his time.

            The newly emptied bottle of fire whiskey sat discarded on his desk. He had brought his glass with him to the small room off his office that served as living quarters.  The room was no longer the perfectly ordered place it had once been. Books were strewn across every surface; the bed was disheveled and unmade. It echoed the unkempt place his mind had become.

            Giving into the bleak numbness of inebriation, he let his head fall into his hands as he sat on the edge of his bed. He knew not how long he sat in the quiet dark like that, the same dark thoughts turning around and around through his head endlessly.

            A knock at the heavy office door tugged at him, trying to pull his attention away from his stupor.

            “What is it?” he snapped, though raising his voice even just slightly caused his head to ache.

            “Professor...” She spoke through the door, as she had not yet been invited in. “You missed the feast. I just wanted...I mean I thought someone should check in on you.”

            “Okay? What would it matter if I was okay? And why would you feel the need to take this task upon yourself. And with what nerve would you seek to go to a teacher’s quarters at such an hour?”

            He's talking to her, and as he hasn't told her to leave, she boldly opened the door on her own.

            Who did she think she was?  Did she think because she had some sort of daydream about him, or because he had spent time with her during all those extra lessons that she was afforded the privilege of intruding on him whenever she wished?

            When she entered the room, and looked down at him, she couldn’t help but feel his pain. He looked so defeated.

            “Impertinent girl.” He rasped.  “What gives you any right?” he demanded, trying to call on the air of intimidation he used in his classroom.  She flinched at his tone, but did not leave. She had never shown any of the fear or revulsion most of the other students held for him. Not since returning at least. He honestly couldn't remember how she had acted in class before her absence.

            “Foolish girl.” He added, annoyed that she had not cowered or burst into tears and turned tail.

            “Professor please, don't send me away. Let me stay with you. You're...you...don't seem to be having a very good go of it.”  She appeared to be choosing her words carefully.

            He sprung from his bed, stumbling a few steps as he did. “Must I show you...will that make you go and leave me in peace?” He tried to pull up his sleeve, fumbling clumsily with the series of buttons at the cuff.

            “You won't run me off with the mark, Sir.” She did her best to keep her voice firm, to prove herself calm and determined.  Her arms moved to fold across her chest, but she thought better of it. Instead, she let them fall back to her sides, away from the pockets of her robes.

            “Silly girl. It _should_ frighten you. I.." he stressed, “...should frighten you.” He did his best to loom over her, but again he stumbled, his intoxication betraying him. His mind wasn't much better off, the fog of alcohol taking part of the edge off his ability to fully articulate his ire.

            “Why?” She asked plainly, looking up at him, jaw set firm with that trace of defiance. “You are no monster. To be sure, you are demanding, challenging...fierce even, but not a monster.”

            His responding laugh was dark with a hint of sarcastic mirth. “Fierce? That would imply a passionate heart. I think not!” he mocked her with all the venom he could muster.

            “You are not a monster.” She reaffirmed, taking a single step closer. “I have seen it.” She let slip and then immediately regretted letting that slip.

            “Seen it? Oh, I know your thoughts young one.” He said with an edge of sarcasm.

            This confused her, she hadn’t told him about her dream. Hadn't told anyone about it.  Knowing full well this was likely wholly the wrong thing to say, “That’s right, you’re not a monster, you're just lonely.” There, she said it. She braced then for the impact of what was surely to come.

            He pulled himself up to his full height, drink not impeding him this time. “Lonely! Yes, I am truly alone. That’s what happens when those around you die. When you are forced to live on without them. Now go, get out of my sight.” he had said too much. She had gotten the better of him for a moment. Weakness had been shown. He wasn't going to give her a chance to press the advantage.

            “You choose to be alone now. I speak of loneliness ...an altogether separate and different thing.  I know you won't be alone forever.”

            “And how pray tell would you know this? A crystal ball from that foolish divination class?”

            “No.” she responded calmly.

            He moved in closer, now truly looming over her, head tilted to look at her down his hook nose.

            Finally, she said what had been on her mind for nearly a year. A secret she had hoped to share at a less adversarial moment. “Every night while I was ill I had the same dream. Considering I was asleep more than I was awake, the image is burned into my mind. At first it was kind of, well, disturbing. I mean, I had never thought of you that way before. You were just a teacher. A brilliant one for sure, but, a little terrifying too.” She tried to force a smile. 

“But, since I’ve been back to school and spent time with you, looking at you in that different light, I’m not scared of the idea, of you, anymore.” She considered saying more about her true fears, but figured it was best to get out as much as she could about her dream. It was the evidence, in her mind, and needed to be heard.

            His verbal assault had waned for the moment, arms folding across his chest, as he listened. He gave an approving look at her admission of him being terrifying, his lips pursing as she took it back almost immediately. He was ready to hear her explanation about her foolish daydream. He assumed that was what she spoke about. He was already planning a barbed retort to cut the young witch down.  The more she told him about her foolishness, the more means he would have to berate her.

            Pressing on, uninterrupted yet, “You had my hand in yours, leading me somewhere...up I think. I was happy about it.  You, you had this look on your face.  It was a calm and confident sort of look. You felt...whole.” She left out the part about the pallor being gone from his complexion, that he even looked more youthful.  She paused to take a deep breath. This was the hard part. “...I am pretty sure we were, uh, close.” Her cheeks colored at the admission. Hoping she didn’t have to explain that in greater detail.

            The sheer preposterous nature of it made him laugh out loud, and he never laughed. Not anymore at least. “ _Close_? Do I take by the hue of your cheeks then that you mean, lovers?” A logical conclusion to draw, given what he had seen in her mind.  The unflappable Severus Snape, was…flapped.  “You're a student! I am – what, more than twice your age? Lovers? How utterly delusional of you, girl.”

            “I won't always be a student. “she pointed out brashly. “And I never said there was a definitive time to it or even an expiration date. But I saw it, night after night and I believe it will be true.” She held her ground in the face of his mockery. “And furthermore, I believe I want it to be true.”  Saying it out loud only reaffirmed what she had been feeling. Admitting it out loud made it permanent, part of the universe at large.

            “Stupid girl. You are young and foolish and I am old and broken.” He deflated slightly as the final word passed his lips.  He turned and slunk backwards to reclaim his seat on the edge of his bed, his face once again falling to his hands.

            “Broken can be fixed, and age is...the most pointless part of this argument. You are a remarkable man, Sir. Intelligent and insightful, brilliant.” Though it was clear even to her that his pride had slipped in recent days. He had let himself go even future.  “I would sooner receive one of your well-crafted barbs than a hundred witless compliments from a buffoon.  I cannot bear the thought of your mind, such a great mind, being locked away in solitude.” she pressed on, unwilling to let him interrupt her with reason. What place did reason have in these matters?  “I would love you, if you would let me.”

            “Love...” his tone had changed completely. “...is something now beyond my grasp. I loved once and she is gone.  Her memory, what I did to her, it tortures me to no end."  His words were muffled by his hands. “No, this dream of yours will never come to pass. Leave now, and never speak of your dream or this conversation either.  Furthermore, tell anyone and I will...” His voice trailed off, no threat was mustered.

            “Very well, sir.” She backed away, relenting too soon, too easily to have given up. She didn't look upset or discouraged. No, she believed all that she had said, and there was plenty of time for it to come to pass.

            As she slipped out the door, she whispered over her shoulder. “You are not wholly unappealing either, Sir.”  the barest hint of youthful cheek in her voice and then the door was shut, leaving him in silence again.

            ...and for no single reason he could sort out, Severus wept quietly to himself.


	8. VIII

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

           In the days that had passed since Halloween, Pippa kept her promise to Snape.  She made no mention of their conversation and in class she remained neutral, showing no sign of any affection towards her teacher.  Even in their extra sessions, she remained as professional as he. Their conversation was ever present in the backs of both their minds though. In her case, she was simply bidding her time, but in his it was a small seed of doubt that was growing. 'What if she’s right?' he thought to himself while watching her work.

            He knew she would stay at school for the Christmas holidays. It made him wonder if he should not.  He had begun to look forward to her extra lessons, and he couldn't allow that.

            There was nothing exceptional about her skill in potion making, but he found it enjoyable to watch her work and he could see improvement in her ability under his tutelage. Against his better judgment, he decided to remain at Hogwarts over the break.

            He awoke late Christmas morning, allowing himself the extra sleep after a restless night of particularly vicious dreams.   As he rolled over to get out of bed, his foot touched something at the end of his bed. Looking down, he saw a simply wrapped package - green paper with silver ribbon. He knew immediately who it had to be from. No one had sent him a gift in years.

            He reached for his wand, not the gift, and incanted a spell. A patronus like image floated over his bed, one of her sneaking into his room while he slept.  She had lingered for a moment, watching him.  He leaped from his bed, swatting at the silvery vapors and scattering it like gnats.  He permitted himself the very childlike action of stomping his feet with rage.  She had twice now invaded his private space. The irony that he had done the same to her was completely lost on him now.

            No immediate thought was given to the gift, snatching it up forcefully only after he had hastily dressed himself.  His rage marched him all the way to the Ravenclaw tower.  He worried not who saw him. The corridors were empty though, as was the common room.  Likewise, he cared not about embarrassing her lest she not be alone when he confronted her.

            Her room was at the very top of the tower. As there was no space for an extra body in the seventh-year room, she had been given a room that was normally reserved for alumni guests.

            When he reached her door, he forced himself to pause, trying to regain some composure. When ready, he cleared his throat loudly and let himself in. 

            "Miss Courtland..." he glanced around the small room for her, stopping his entry only when he spied her sitting in a small chair in the corner, an open book in her lap. She wasn't reading though, she had that same distant look in her eye that he remembered from their first lesson of the year.

            While still angry, some of his ire dissipated when he saw her in that state. He couldn't help but be a little curious. Maybe it would be the dream she had mentioned before, or perhaps it was just the bathtub reverie again. That little voice in the back of his head demanded to be heard, it wanted to see that intimate moment again.

            He murmured the spell and was instantly pulled into the girl’s mind. Immediately he knew it wasn't the one he had seen it before, nor did it appear the be the dream that she had told him about.  He knew the place right away to be his home in Cokeworth, but it was different. It wasn't the gloomy, rundown place he knew it as. It looked lived in now and well kept, like a true home.  Like in the last, this reverie contained the them both.  They were resting on a light-colored couch, him sitting and her laid out with her head in his lap. She was wearing Muggle clothes, but his garb was more traditional.  Like the room, they too had changed. She was older, but still youthful in appearance and still very pretty.  Her long black hair was pulled back in a braid that was coiled on the top of her head. His hair was much longer, like Lucius'. It was also pulled back, the style making the shocks of gray at his temples more pronounced.

            They were sharing a book, with her reading and him turning the pages. As his hand would leave the page, fingers would brush against her cheek before coming to rest on her shoulder.  It didn't appear they were reading for learning or research, they were laughing and smiling as they read.

            He wasn't sure which was more disturbing, the sight of his uproarious laughter or himself a good deal older.  As his dream-self turned the page, he bent down to kiss her.  She returned the kiss in kind and closed the book, setting it aside. Shifting on the couch, she pulled herself up into his lap, sitting to face him before resuming their kiss.  The meeting of their lips started as a gentle touch, but as their hands started to roam over each other’s bodies, it intensified.  Hands began to feel around for edges of clothing, which were soon pulled off and strewn about the couch and floor.  He held her close, arms wrapped around the small of her back as her head came to rest on his shoulder. The rhythmic movement between the two was unmistakable.

            At that point he could take no more of the image, closing the connection between their minds. He had seen enough.  There was a weakness in his knees, the anger that had been keeping his form rigid and taut melted away. Gone was his usual rigid posture, he sank back, coming to rest against the door frame.

            The vision had been filled with everything a man could desire: companionship, passion, laughter and love. Were he only to admit to himself that he was the sort of man who still wanted these things.  Could what she says possibly be true? How was it that she could have known the place he grew up, to use it as a setting for her daydream? It vexed him. Had she pulled the image from his mind? Impossible. The chance of him letting anyone into his mind were as slim as allowing them access to his heart. Or perhaps it was simple coincidence, surely his home wasn't unique. Yes, that had to be it. But the seed of doubt in the back of his mind, which had so clearly grown a voice of its own, told him otherwise. Told him she had to be right, and that he should want it to be right.

            "Professor?" her voice called him back from his thoughts, her trance over. "What are you doing here?" She didn't seem alarmed, or upset, simply curious. Then she spotted the gift clasped in his hand. "Oh..." her voice went soft.

            "Yes! Oh." he said, finally finding his voice and some composure. "Once again you've seen fit to invade my quarters without permission.”

            "I wanted to surprise you..."

            "I should surprise you with detention until the end of term, Miss Courtland. Such nerve."

            "Did you open it?" She seemed unconcerned with his threat.

            "No, I didn't open it." He straightened back up, his frame regaining that familiar stiffness. "You must stop taking such liberties with me." The anger had faded from his voice; the tone was more akin to caution now. "You act as if there is some sort of bond between us. I am your teacher; you are my student. Nothing more."

            "But, Severus." she dared, doing just the opposite of what he had advised her of. Not out of cheek, but to feel any sort of closeness with him.

            A dark brow arched imperiously. He was about to correct her, but the roots of the seed grew longer and deeper still, choking out his voice.

            "If you would only allow yourself to entertain what I've said before.  We are to be much more." She said, matter-of-factly.

            Could he afford not to put some stock into what he had just gleaned. If there was any small glimmer of hope that it much come to pass. Another one of the many second chances life kept affording him.

            "I told you before, I don't know that I can. I loved once and I lost her. More horribly, it was my fault." He admitted, the grief of memory now profoundly etched on his face. "Even if I gave into your fantasy, you couldn't expect me to remove her from my heart."

            "Surely there is room for both in there? For past and future?" she asked, not daring to sound hopeful. He was opening up to her and she wasn't about to retreat this time.

            He couldn't contain the dark laugh that escaped his lips, "My heart? My heart has been broken into so many pieces that it is dust."

            Taking a few quick steps, she closed the distance between them, her hand outstretched to rest above his broken heart. "Please, Severus. Believe in what I tell you. Think of how wonderful it would be to have someone to share your thoughts with again. To share the small moments of the day, the triumphs and even the sadness. Let me into your life, share your mind with me and your heart would have to follow. I am sure of it."

            He flinched away from the touch, taking a step back away from her. Not because he didn't want it, but because it was wholly inappropriate.  Her logic made some sense to him. Logic was something he could put some stock into. She seemed so convinced of what she was saying.

            "If we were to do this. " he relented finally and the voice in the back of his head roared in triumph. His outward voice was much softer and controlled, "There is to be nothing to happen while you are my student.  No touching." his gaze turned to her outstretched hand, which she promptly withdrew at his words. "No starry-eyed looks in class, and I expect nothing but one hundred and ten percent from you in class. Our one on one lessons will cease as of this moment as well. I have been given too many second chances at this school, I will not have the hardships that came with them thrown away because you cannot control yourself for a few months.

            His conditions were met with an enthusiastic double-nod. Her face was alight though, as if he had just given her the best possible Christmas gift. Which, in her mind, he had.

            He continued, "Furthermore, I cannot promise you that my heart will ever mend and make room for you. Even after school has ended, whatever relationship has formed between us will be a chaste one. Do you understand?" his head cocked to the side and he studied her face intently, to see if she understood.  Though it seemed silly to him to say. If he had allowed the small assumption that her visions were the future to come, then he had to also allow himself the notion that they would someday be intimate.

            "Yes, Severus. I understand you. There is to be no physical love between us, until an emotional one comes about."

            "And that is quite enough of that." He said, his tone sharper than he had meant it to be. "Professor Snape, or Sir. No first names, no silly pet names. No foolishness. Do I make myself clear?"

            Even with all his rules and stipulations, she was filled with excitement, bouncing on her toes. "Yes, Sir. Of course, Professor Snape." though she grinned in such a way that there could be no mistake it was said in cheek.

            He wanted to linger, to stay and talk as she had promised they would, but he knew there could be only one way for this to work for now. He nodded and walked past her, opening the small window. With what had just transpired between them, caution dictated he not stomp his way back through the Ravenclaw tower.

            "Sir, your gift. Are you going to open it?"

            He glanced down at the wrapped parcel in his hand. In his early anger, his tight grip had crumpled the paper in places. "After you graduate, when I can get you something in kind." And with that, he swirled his cloak around him, turning to smoke and flying out the window.


	9. IX

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

            "I have a confession I must make." he admitted quietly, glancing over the edge of his book at the top of her head.  She was seated at one of the long tables in the Great Hall with the other students studying for their exams.  Even though no one was seated near her, he had cast the muffliato spell on the two of them. It was a habit he had gotten into.

            Despite initiating a conversation, he walked away from her, moving along the table to check on other students. She turned her head slightly to watch him out of the corner of her eye, doing her best to bite back the smile forming on her lips.  Several months had passed since Christmas, and she had done her best to live within the confines of their non-relationship relationship.

            For appearances sake, he was very careful for them to never actually be alone together. So, it was instances like this one, where they would talk.  Study sessions, the library, even once during a Quidditch match.  A good part of their discussions revolved around her classes, and preparation for exams. It was clear to her that he cared about her success and she found great comfort in that.  He had shared some of his memories about his times as a student with her, though he stayed clear of anything to do with Lily, the Marauders or his induction into the Death Eaters. Those were things best discussed when he wasn't worried about his surroundings.  She also delighted in hearing about his resumed research into potions and spells.  It had signaled to her that he was coming alive again. 

            "I've used Legilimency on you." That voice in the back of his mind - which was now so much more in the front of it -  had demanded he come clean with her.

            "What? Why?" Her head starting to turn to look up at him.

            "Keep your eyes on your work. You can chastise me later in greater volume and arm waving if you wish."

            She harrumphed and looked back at her book, muttering about the unfairness of double standards.

            He went on to explain about how he wanted to know if she was wasting her time in class or the lesson was beyond her ability, though it took several passes up and down the table to do so.

            "So which was it then?" she asked, sounding impatient and frustrated at the gaps in conversation. Her tone suggested she had no idea what he was referring to.

            "Neither." He lingered for longer this time, explaining what he had seen both the time in class and on Christmas morning.

            "I don't remember either of those, at all.  And don't you dare sneak in there again to see if I'm telling the truth now. I told you about my dream, that was all there ever was."  More than slightly annoyed at his admission, she picked up quill and started to write on the top of her notes: S.S. + P.C. in an act of adolescent rebellion.

            "Quit it." he whispered harshly and leaned in, tapping the parchment with his wand. The ink disappeared, sucked up into his wand.

            There was no protest from her, instead her response was a simple soft contented sigh.  A lock of his long raven hair had brushed across her cheek as he leaned down. No longer was it stringy and oily, but soft and feathery.

            It was perhaps the biggest change she had seen him, the change in his outward appearance.  Surely it would have been the thing that would have given them away if anyone had been paying attention.  Were Dumbledore alive still, he would have seen it for what it was.

            He sighed in return, though it was one of exasperation. "Get a hold of yourself girl."  As he pulled his hand back, she caught a glint of something shiny around his wrist - the silver ribbon from his Christmas gift.

            "My ribbon!" she whispered with delight, all hope of her focusing on her work was now lost.

            "Back to work" His voice resumed its normal volume, and to punctuate his seriousness he rapped her on the top of her head with his book.


	10. X

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

           There was a giddy sort of energy within the students, that even the damp, dark dungeon classroom could not spoil. The final potions class had come to the Seventh Years. There would be no more essays, no more assignments.  Some of them had hardly put any effort into their final concoctions and were paying the price with singed eyebrows and choking on clouds of noxious smoke. A few though, Pippa included, still toiled away for learning sake.

            She kept her attention on the task before her, cutting ingredients with precision and care. It was effort for her though. With the anxiety of graduation, with all that it promised, she was not as clear headed as she normally would have been.

            Snape was making his rounds through the classroom, checking their progress. He could not use the spell to conceal their conversation in class, so their exchanges were professional in nature. She had kept her promise to him as well, behaving as any other student would.  This too had been an effort for her, and as he made his rounds, she often glanced up to track his progress.

            When his circuit brought him to her table, he paused, looking down his nose at her.

            "Eyes on your work, Cortland, or you will ruin your brew." he reached over her shoulder to run a finger along a line of directions in her potions text.  "See here, you’ve almost neglected the final step."

            Her hand moved to the page to mark the spot he was pointing to and her finger tips lightly brushed across his hand. It was the simplest of touches, not even worthy of being called a caress, but she had done it on purpose and they both knew.

            "Five points from Ravenclaw, for the inability to follow the simplest of instructions." He had docked her points for the touch, not sloppy potion making.  He gave her a chastising look, a brow arching questioningly as if to dare her to go against him.  There were groans from her fellow Ravenclaw and sniggers from one or two Slytherin.

            "Back to work." he hissed at them all. "There is still time enough for detentions to be served."

            His long dark robe swirled around him as he turned and strode back to the head of the classroom to sit at his desk. Once there he cast a frown in her direction that made her shy away.  When the class had settled back down and turned their attention to their work once again, he glanced down at his hand where she had touched him. That small voice in the back of his head said nothing for it was no longer small and no longer relegated to a place in the back of his thoughts. It was fully in the forefront now, no longer separate and able to be pushed downward and encased in doubt.  He wasn't quite sure when he had decided it, but he admitted it now to himself, she would be coming with him at the end of the school year.


	11. XI

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

   

         The term had finally ended and all that was left for Pippa was the final feast.  She was excited, but filled with a sense of trepidation as well. The end of term had been so busy, she and Severus had found it increasingly difficult to find time to talk and no plans had yet been made.

            Unable to live any longer without knowing, she made her way down to Snape’s office.  ‘Was she technically still a student?’ she wondered, hurrying down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She was done with classes, but still on school grounds. Could he require her to have physically left school grounds for his conditions to be done with?

            “Sir?” She knocked on the door and then let herself in, having decided that she was no longer a student.

            “En…” the sound of the door opening gave him pause. “…ter”.  A sigh echoed from the back of the large dark room where he was sorting through his belongings.

            She made her way further into his office. Something was clearly on her mind, but she was either unwilling to speak it, or was still choosing the right words.

            Even without the use of magic, he knew what she was thinking.

            “Send your parents an owl, I will be taking you with me tomorrow.” In his mind that was what she wanted. Right? Were he better with social intercourse though, he might have phrased it in a less possessive or commanding sort of way. So, when she appeared a little a taken aback by his words, he stopped what he was doing and turned his full attention on her.

            “I’m not taking the train?” She asked, and wondered if that meant she wouldn’t be taking the boat across the lake either, as was tradition for seventh years. “I haven’t told them, anyone, anything.”

            “I had assumed as much, as no owls demanding my resignation ever arrived.” He said briskly.

            His office wasn’t a pleasant place. There was no way she was fooling herself into anything otherwise. Snape’s reputation for being creepy was not wholly undeserved. There were things in jars and vials on the walls that made her skin crawl. There were parts of his ways she would just have to accept, not love, like the rest of him.

Feeling as if her non-student status had been established, she stepped further into the private area of his quarters, looking around. This part of the small space was far less disturbing. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but he tutted at her and shook his head. The eye roll he received from her in response was not appreciated either.

            “I would like to say with full honesty that, while at Hogwarts together, you never graced my bed with your presence.” With a flick of his wand, he conjured a simple little stool for her, should she still wish to sit.

            “What should I tell them?” she asked, finally, plunking herself down.

            “That is entirely up to you. I had assumed, given your determination in this matter, that you had our lives all planned right down to funeral arrangements.” He chided her in that same crisp, classroom tone. There was no bite to it though, no scowl or glare.

            “Well no, not exactly…”

            “Then perhaps you should return home to explain. I doubt they will be enthused with your choices.” He knew a no small portion of the wizarding world still reviled him. He had been cleared, but those affected directly would never forgive him.

            She chewed on her bottom lip, mulling over his words.

            “You’re worried if you let me out of your sight I will go back on our…” What was it? “…arrangement?”

            “Well…”

            He pulled up a chair and sat down across from her. “Silly girl.” Though this time it was meant in comfort, not malice. “And here I thought you were the foremost expert on my thoughts and feelings.” He teased lightly. “I promised you your chance and I intend to honor that. You should, at the very least, know by now that I am a man of my word.”

            “I know. I know. Rationally, I know. But emotionally…” she admitted. “I’ve just been waiting so long…”

            “Six months is hardly a long time.” He pointed out, his arms resting on his knees, fingers loosely steepled together in front of him. “You really must set aside these childish notions. You’re a grown witch asking for an adult relationship. If you want to hold hands and skip through the daisies go find yourself a wizard your own age.” his dark eyes stayed on hers, awaiting her reaction.

            “No.” she protested. That got her attention, her eyes now wide, “I know, I know.” she added, this time with an air of finality.

            He pushed himself up out of the chair. Tugging at the front of his long coat, he smoothed out the creases and wrinkles, returning to his usual crisp and over starched looking self.

            “Well then, if you haven’t already, you need to finish packing as well.” With the tap of his wand, items floated through the air and into the old case.

            She stood as well, moving distracted around the room, her mind still on her parents. She paused at the trunk, glancing down. Something had caught her eye and she crouched down, as she reached for it, she looked up for permission.

            His head cocked to the side, but he nodded for her to continue. “A bit of care…” he warned, as not everything in there was entirely safe for untrained hands.

            A few old books and what looked like a jar of rat brains was set to the side so that she could safely pull out an old winter Slytherin house scarf.  The look on her face would suggest that she had just found the holy grail. “Can I?  I mean, you don’t wear it anymore, right? It was all the way in the bottom.”

            Rolling his eyes heavenward, “Very well. If you must give into emotional sentimentality. I haven’t worn it since well before you were born, but if you feel the need, by all means.”

            “Hey!” She cut him off as she stood, holding the scarf to her chest. “Ribbon. Wrist. Cauldron. Kettle.”

            A sharp wand flick and one of the books marching through the air to the trunk altered course to thump the top of her head. That was as much of a response as she would get from him on that matter.

            The scarf was thrown around her neck in an over exaggerated manner, rebelliously. “You can’t do that anymore, _Sir_.” There was a bump and a thud as two more books clipped the top of her head.

            “Ow!” she exclaimed, though there was a twinkle in her eyes that indicated amusement, not real pain. While swatting students on the head had been an act of correction in the classroom, it had come to mean something else between the two of them. A substitute for actual contact. At least, that was the way she liked to think of it.

            “Packing?” he tried to pull her back to matters at hand, to reality.

            She nodded, “Yes, right. I should.” Deliberating on what she was would say to her parents could wait until tomorrow. The ends of the scarf were looped once more around her neck and she nodded, heading towards the door.

            Shaking his head, he watched her leave, “If you sleep with that tonight I…”

            “Stop reading my mind!” she cut him off before the dungeon door closed behind her.


	12. XII

**DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

  

         The old silver and green scarf around her neck drew a little interest on the Hogwarts’s express. It wasn't the first time a female student had been seen wearing some item of a different house. It was just not usually that of Slytherin. So much like the ride to school, Pippa garnered a go or two of extra questions from those of the nosier sort.  It was with relief that she stepped off the train, gathered her trunk and joined her parents on the platform. If either of them had anything to say about the threadbare old thing, neither voiced it.  She addressed the unasked question only with that she had met someone at school and would explain when they got home.

            Back home, the trunk was sent levitating down the hall to her room as the trio settled in. Pippa had not even had time to take her cloak and scarf off when her brother joined them from his room down the hall.

            "Pip!" he greeted her with excitement and a warm hug. He wasn't dressed in a partial Muggle outfit from the night before, but instead was dressed in more acceptable Wizarding wear. Something had changed with him, she filed it away for later. Her news needed to be addressed first.

            "Your sister was just telling us that she met someone this year and won't be staying with us for the summer." Her mother explained with a reserved air.

            "Oh? That seems rather sudden.” It took a moment for the scarf around her neck to register. It was the summer; it was out of place and it was decidedly the wrong set of colors.

            "A Slytherin?" he nearly chocked, his mind racing to a list of Slytherin boys would have still been there, to see if any of them would have been remotely acceptable to date his sister.

            "Sort of." she replied softly. Her father sat down at the table after shrugging off his jacket. Her mother was still hovering though. Neither interrupted.

            "Severus." she admitted softly. She had been unsure of how her parents would take it, but she counted the seconds it took for her brother to go nuclear.

            "What?" He shouted, looking at his sister, completely gobsmacked. "No, wait, say that again. I have to sit down for this." And sit he did, dropping himself forcefully into a chair next to his father at the table. "I can honestly not believe what I'm hearing? You're kidding right. Or you've gone completely mental. Are you daft, Pip? I thought I was just taking the piss out of you before you went back. But if I had realized..." he looked angry, hands balled up into fists on the tabletop.

            "Eddy, you know he was cleared..." she offered up.

            "He killed Dumbledore, Pip! And who knows who else." his face was flush with anger now.

            "You know as well as I do the full details of that. I was gutted too. But...he didn't do it for Voldemort. Dumbledore was really sick..." she was pleading with him, wanting him to calm down.  She had never expected that he would be happy for her, but not angry like this.

            Full of angry energy, he popped back up to his feet, pacing the kitchen. "You could have anyone, why...its...he was our teacher. The idea of you snogging Severus Snape, let alone anything else." His face twisted up in revulsion. "Mum, Dad, he must have put a hex on her, or used some potion." he looked back and forth between his parents for assistance.

            "You don't need to be thinking of me snogging anyone, thank you very much." Her voice was raising in volume and pitch, having had quite enough of his tirade.

            Seeing he was about to get no help from their parents, he charged on. "It's just wrong."

            "No more than you sneaking around with those Muggle girls." she countered with.

            "See! Look, he's already got you thinking all Slytherinlike. Next you'll be calling people mudbloods and worse."

            "Merlin's beard, Eddy. That's not what I meant. Just that, well, you've been a bit of a slag. I’ve never questioned whom you saw fit to date. Even though I wanted to say something. I'm surprised I didn't get an Owl that you'd come home with some sort of Muggle willie pox." Anger flashed in her bright blue eyes, her jaw set.  Edward would know the signs, the look she got when she was about to erupt with fury.

            "I've never seen a tramp stamp used to summon Death Eaters." he said with a derisive snort.

            "Listen. " she said firmly through gritted teeth. "I'm of age, I can decide whom I wish to date. I'm going to spend the summer with Severus. You can either get on board with that or piss off."

            A whole-body shudder was his response. "No, you listen. Even if you can't get past all that stuff, the man still has a cruel streak a mile wide. I've seen it. He’s horrible."

            "Maybe if you hadn't of been such a prat and a follower, trying to be like Potter. Whatever. I’ve said my piece. You will need to learn to be civil. We're not at school anymore, you're going to have to put that aside."

            "I will...follow mom's lead." Was the best he could muster.

            "Oh, am I allowed to speak now?" their mother asked in a dry tone. She had let the little squabble play out to gauge her daughter’s true feelings on the matter, knowing her temper would glean the truth of her heart. She shrugged her coat off and turned to the stove, tapping the kettle with her wand to start it. "I have to admit, Pippa, I'm not entirely thrilled about this, but, you are of age and ultimately it is your choice.  That is, working on the assumption you haven't been tampered with."

            "Mum!" she whispered harshly.

            "Is that it?" Edward snapped, "She did say he was oh so brilliant at potions and spells. Remember?"

            "You've said your piece, Edward..."

            "I'm not going to claim that Severus Snape is or isn't capable, but I trust Pippa." her mother added.

            Her father weighed in now. "He is quite a bit older than you dear. We're not looking at some sort of Jane Eyre situation here, are we?" He did love to compare their trials and tribulations to fiction.

            Her mother jumped back in, "Your father has a point dear. I am willing to set aside that nasty involvement with Voldemort and his crowd. I believe what the New Prophet had to say and the conclusions of the Wizengamot had to say on the matter. But, Snape was at Hogwarts when I attended. I can't say that he would have ever been my choice for the Yule Ball, but I can see how a daughter of mine would fall for a man of his intellectual ability. He was definitely one of the more knowledgeable and skilled wizards when I was there, and that was..." she furrowed her brow. "...well, decades ago. I'm sure his ability has only improved with age. In that regard, I suppose I can see some appeal." she said, though slightly begrudgingly.

            Edward opened his mouth to protest, but their mother silenced him with a stern look. He had promised to abide by her wishes.

            Her father had no more to say on the matter, despite the pleading look his son turned in his direction. He hoped it was just a phase and she would come around eventually. In his mind, the more they pushed her, the more they were apt to turn it into a Romeo and Juliet type situation.

            Edward slammed his fists down on the table and stormed off to his room. "It's a shame Bellatrix Lestrange is dead, I could really use a date for Friday night." and then his door slammed.

           


	13. XIII

  **DISCLAIMER: The Wizarding World and it's inhabitants belong to the literary goddess that is JK Rowling. I take no credit for them. Pippa and her family are my small homage to JK's greatness.**

* * *

 

            The pair of them sat at the same table in the kitchen. It was early morning, a few shafts of sunlight beaming through the cracks around the ancient curtains that hung there.  The dusty old row house still maintained most of its Victorian dourness.  A woman's touch had encroached in small places though, flowers on the sill, a lace runner on the table. Nothing too overpowering, just enough for Pippa to have enforced a small measure of herself on her new surroundings.

            Sometimes they sat for prolonged periods in silence, others the room buzzed with the flurry of their conversation. She had made good on her promise in that regard. She had started to learn his subtle queues of when he wished to be alone and respected that. She had no need to be joined at his hip, and she did not take it personally if he did not wish to talk. 

            Today's morning tea was taken with light conversation. She had gone to the shops early for fresh scones and a copy of the Muggle post. In the beginning this had naturally drawn a bit of torment for him. What did they care of the Muggle world news? She swore however that she only enjoyed the crossword puzzle.

            He passed the morning with one of the books from his endless library. Something she had picked up for him recently. The sight of him reading brought her immense pleasure. The two things she loved the most, together, right in front of her. Fighting back the urge to get emotional, she turned to humor instead.

            “Oh. Sev-dear, you'll love this one.” She intoned lightly, “A seven letter word for the magical science for turning lead into gold.” She still hadn't perfected the art of predicting his possible reactions. Would he laugh or scoff?  He had told her this would likely not be an easy road for her, that he could make no promises about their future. He had brought her here with him after graduation thought and that was enough for her now.

            His dark eyes flicked up from his page and he peered across the table at her. “Are you serious?” his response was soft, yet gave no hint to his thoughts.

            Unsure of what he was referring to, the ludicrous nature or that she didn't know the answer, she simply smiled, hoping it would be infectious. It was certainly easier to pull one out of him that way.

            “Alchemy.” he finally replied and placed his book down on the table. Brows knitted as he was suddenly poked and prodded by an odd creeping feeling of Deja-Vu. This was not the first time they had sat at this table and shared a meal. It was not the first time she had used the muggle puzzle to draw him into conversation. But still, something felt so extraordinarily...real. It crawled out from the back of his mind, into his fore thoughts. The pensive look on his face deepened. He was barely aware of her expression changing in response.

            “Have you had a puzzle with that question before?” He asked and held his hand towards her for the paper.

            She turned it over to him, “No, I don't think so. Maybe something similar but...Severus, what is it? You look like...Well, I don't know what you look like. Like you've seen a ghost, forgot your name and walked on someone's grave, all at the same time..."

            He didn't answer her at first, scanning the printed page instead.  She had folded it in quarters, the puzzle on one side and comics on the other. Nothing leapt off the page at him immediately, and then. The date.

            The memory came crashing back to him like a tidal wave.  It was a daydream she had had during one of her exams. He had intruded only long enough to get her attention back on her test, but he had glimpsed something none the less. Given her childish reaction to his admission of using Legilimens on her, he had never mentioned it. It had only been a snippet, but he plainly remembered seeing the paper folded on the table beside her.  His complexion faded even more and his expression moved from consternation and deep thought to surprise and realization. None of the other visions had come to pass though they were still both too young for the one that had tipped him in favor of this thing between them.  He had over time come to think they were just daydreams after all. They had been the spark that had started things, not that they would not actually come to pass.  But if this one had, it stood to reason that the others might as well.

            As he stood up from the table, she once again asked him what was happening. “Severus?” She just looked up at him with intense worry. “You're, you're worrying me.” He stepped closer and offered her his hand.

            “Come.” he said simply. He took her hand and lead her towards the stairs.

            “Are you going to tell me what has gotten you so bewitched?” Her tone was starting to slip into begging, laced with worry still.

            “No, I am not bewitched, nor am I under any sort of spell or enchantment.” Though, that was only true on the surface.  “I simply realized something, a moment of clarity, if you would.”

            She 'ohed' softly, though it gave her no such clarity.  “Well, what...why?

            “We are going to bed.” he added over the creak of the stairs. Her hand was still in his as she stepped onto the first stair.

            “What? Sev, we've only been up for a few hours.” Had he finally lost it?

            “Not to sleep.” And he assumed that would be enough to end her confusion. As she touched the third step he asked her, “What was your best subject, _Inamorata **?**_

            “Severus, what an absolutely ridiculous question to ask right now...

            _Creak. Creak._

Then it was she that was hit with the same smack of Deja-Vu and memory. This was her dream! Her heart stopped as it rocketed up into her throat and then slammed back down into her stomach.

            “Divination.” She whispered after a final creak as she stepped up onto the second floor.

 

* * *

          

            Severus was awoken by a tickling sensation at his nose. Opening his eyes, he found strands of Pippa's hair strewn across his face. A smile grew on his lips as he gently brushed them back behind her ear.  Since bringing her to Spinner's End she had often shared his bed with him, but this was the first time they had shared each other’s bodies.

            He slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer not wanting to wake her just yet. She looked so peaceful, he wanted to watch her a moment.  She had made good on her promise to him, sharing her mind and heart and his had followed.

            His thoughts couldn't help but go to to the place in his heart where Lilly still lived.  He wondered idly if she would be happy for him. He hoped that she would have been.


End file.
